Subjectivity
by intersects
Summary: Everybody's got some truth buried somewhere. What are you going to do when the highest stakes you've ever known are hanging in the very delicate balance? Post-Last Dance, Jules/Sam.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes:** If you're reading this for the first time - hello! And welcome to this dimension of Flashpoint that I've chosen to play around with. I've been sitting on this story (both in idea and in writing) for a long time, and it has since evolved into a mini-epic. So hang on for the ride and I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you don't mind, I love reviews! If you're a long-time reader/subscriber of this story, I strongly encourage you read the first two chapters again, as I've re-hauled the story and shifted the timeline (from post-Business as Usual to post-Last Dance), took out parts and added more, so much so that while the backbone of the story remains the same, the events leading to it have changed drastically, as did the Sam/Jules relationship/friendship/whatever it is they have. That all said, I hope everyone enjoys Subjectivity. Let me know what you think!  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em.  
**Character/Pairing:** Jules, Sam, entire cast

**SUBJECTIVITY****  
**

* * *

**May 8, 2009**

The subject's head was hung down low, his eyes downcast on the cold, gravel floor as he made his way towards the stairs. He could already see the specks of dust in the beam of sunshine from a distance, dancing and floating and sinking slowly. The cold draft of the air-conditioning prickled at his skin, causing the slightest of goose bumps to form. With his left hand tucked safely in his pocket and his right clutching on to the strap of his bag, he quickened his pace.

And that was when he felt it. It was the piercing sense of the footsteps behind him, the eerie hunch of knowing that someone was watching him. Years of training had attuned his senses to the most minute of changes, and for a brief moment he wondered if he was ready to face the potential assailant behind him.

When he turned around with an expectant look on his face, the person following him jumped back a little, as if not expecting him to have noticed her, but only took a moment to recover.

"Hey." Jules spoke up first, a myriad of awkward and uncomfortable, her eyes flitting to a point beyond his shoulders before focusing on him again. He nodded in response and waited. When it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she pursed her lips and continued.

"I know it's been a long night, Sam, but I just –" She paused for a while, as if searching for the right words to say, bopping her head a little in the way he'd memorized well. "I just need to apologize for my behavior back in the truck last night. It's none of my business and I shouldn't have said what I did. So, I'm sorry."

He felt a tiny smirk forming on his face, despite himself. "You shouldn't be."

"No, I am. What you do outside of work after I – we broke up –"

"How did you figure I have a girlfriend?" he cut her short, curiously; carefully avoiding answering all the hidden questions he knew Jules had, beneath her confident output and demeanor.

She shrugged lightly, a surprised look flitting across her face for only an instance. "You called someone last night to postpone your date."

It wasn't so much that Sam started chuckling and shaking his head than it was Jules feeling stupidly self-conscious that made her fold her arms across her chest. And she wasn't going to ask. Nope, she absolutely was not. She said what she wanted to say, and she should be going. Returning home for a long, cold shower and a good eight hours in bed even. Now that sounded absolutely divine, and she should walk away –

"What?" She blurted out.

"First of all, Jules, you really didn't have to apologize," he told her, after the chuckling ceased. His eyes burned with that same intensity as always. "Second, that was just an old buddy from the army."

With her ears burning hot, Jules could only shake her head and laugh at herself. "Well, then. I still shouldn't have been so sore about it." Stifling a yawn and hitting her mouth with the back of her hand, as she jabbed her thumb towards the exit. "Which, speaking of sore. I should go."

He watched her turned and walked away, and wondered if he should stop her to tell her something, but she'd only taken a couple of steps before turning back. She cocked her head to the side, and for the briefest of seconds, Sam could have sworn he spotted a coy expression flit on her face.

"Actually. I was thinking about grabbing a coffee before going home. You wanna come with?"

His answer surprised only one of them.

"Absolutely."

* * *

It was hard to miss the breaking news when it happened – it was all over every media outlet with repeated footage of the crime scene, the constant regurgitation of the facts and details. The rehashing of how the sniper had a personal agenda against the police strike force because they had killed his father right in front of him, and how he had turned the tables against them to seek his revenge.

It made for great entertainment. Something you find in a procedural drama, maybe. Add in some sort of internal conflict, human drama and you've got the script for something.

The man drummed his fingers against the side of the table, piled with neat sheaves of paper stacked up evenly at the corner. The corkboard in front of him was tacked with newspaper articles and photographs; scribbles of notes in felt-tipped ink almost covering the entirety of the surface on post-it notes. Then he rocked back and forth, twirling his pen between his second and third digits, and finally leaned back as he contemplated.

The incident had given him some ideas of his own. At first it was just a bubble of thought, long before anything had ever happened to those Croatians. He thought about it occasionally, but nothing concrete ever came to plan – He simply hadn't had the time to map his plans out, or to scope out the situation and do his thorough research.

But now that he suddenly had the wealth of time to do everything he'd ever wanted, he knew there would never be a better moment. It was up to him to gather his contacts and obtain his materials in the least conspicuous way, without raising any suspicions; to detail his plans right down to the tiny nitty-gritty and without flaws and in _perfectus_. He wouldn't end up like the dead guy who failed to think out his plan thoroughly and paid dearly with his life. No, he would be meticulous, and the people involved wouldn't even know what hit them until it was too late. It would be the strike of the century.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards, forming a self-pleased and sadistic grin, as he tapped his pen against his chin. The things he planned had given him a rush, just imagining all of it happening. The chaos it'd cause, the sheer mental torture that will happen before he went in for the final, crushing blow.

Great things took time to form, to think through carefully and finally, after months of preparation, to carry out.

And so, it was finally time.

Time for Sam Braddock to pay for all that he'd taken away.

* * *

The coffee was great. Amazing, even. It was exactly what she needed after that long shift at work. Maybe she should have a second cup of her double-double. That sounded like a fantastic idea.

As she stared at the ceiling, Jules was decidedly trying (really, really) hard to not think about what had just transpired, and she wasn't referring to the coffee either. But the big elephant in the room shifted next to her, and she had no choice but to acknowledge his presence – in her bedroom, on her bed; his sticky, warm form next to her.

"Hey."

"Hey," she half-sighed the word as she turned her body around to face him. He frowned at that, but knew exactly what kind of stakes they were playing with and what kind of thoughts were running through her mind. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of the same things; not for himself, but for her.

"You regretting this already?" he whispered against her lips, his finger tracing her cheekbone, taking comfort that she wasn't pulling away or flinching. She surprised him even further by just hesitating for a second before meeting his lips with hers, reminiscent of the display of passion minutes ago when they'd burst into her bedroom, their hands exploring every line, every curve on their bodies like they'd never stopped.

They pulled away, both breathing heavily.

"No. Yes. I don't know. It's the tiredness talking," she shot in quick concession, immediately wincing at how bad that must have sounded to Sam, and shook her head. "I mean – "

"No, I get it, Jules. Do you want me to leave now?" he said, and Jules had no idea at all if he was being serious or sarcastic. As if he could read minds now, he added. "I'm being serious here. We can forget this whole thing ever happened the moment I step out of your room."

"No," she replied, and then with more conviction in her voice she repeated. "No. We won't ever work on this if you walk out right now, you know that." And then, like exhaustion shutting down all her internal logical filters, she continued without a hitch; getting into a seated position.. "It's been a horrible, horrible month at work, alright? You being _there_ and I can't do a damn thing about it."

"So you want me to leave?"

"No! Sam, are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

"I'm hearing the words you're saying but I'm not getting any deeper meaning from them," he admitted and propped himself up with his elbow. With the smallest of grins present, he repeated her words back to her: "It's the tiredness talking."

"Christ," she spat out, sighing. There were so many things she should be saying. That this was a bad idea all over again, that they're both being incredibly stupid for a second time; but all these words died in her throat. This was ridiculous, she decided – the logical side of her decided. There was another side; the irrational one which was encouraging her to take the risks again and stop fighting herself.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"I miss you, Sam. I miss my best friend, I miss being able to talk with you, and I miss how things were with us before and when we started having sex with each other. I don't want to jeopardize either of our jobs but I can't stand that I'm watching one of the best things in my life slip away like that, and I think I'll like to fight for it." She bit down her bottom lip. "Is that clear enough for you?"

The light dawned in his eyes, before being clouded by something that Jules didn't recognize. It made her frown and she broke off their eye contact, sensing that things were going to get more awkward; opting to pick up her blouse from the floor and pulling it over her head instead.

"I'm happy to hear that. I am," he told her, standing up too. She looked up at him again and then diverted her eyes away; she couldn't look at his face without her eyes involuntarily sliding down to his torso, before going even further down, and that was the last thing she wanted to be fixated with this very moment.

"There's a 'but' somewhere."

"Yes. But you're obviously not in a position to make a decision like this. Neither am I. I suggest we sleep on this, and then if you still feel the same way, then we'll do something about it."

"I can't believe you're the logical one right now," she grumbled a little, and he chuckled, walking over where she was and picking up his boxers and pants, his fingers fiddling with the buckle. He leaned dangerously close to her, enough but not-yet for her senses to go into overdrive again.

"Looking forward to hearing from you," he said in a low voice. She traced his retreating outline until he got out of her sight, staying rooted to her spot as she did so. When she heard the sound of her front door closing a moment later, she exhaled slowly.

Her bed never looked as enticing than now.


	2. Friday, Part I

**May 15, 2009**

She didn't call.

In retrospect Sam thought he should have expected that right from the start. Nothing less, nothing more, and in some ways he even admired her ability to compartmentalize that cleanly. Something told him that she didn't used to be like that; it certainly didn't fit in with her top-notch work proficiency and strong determination. Sam didn't know whether to feel proud that he was able to break through her walls to make her behave this way, or to feel ashamed of himself.

Which was why he raised his eyebrow when he saw Jules and Ed standing along the corridor, staring as he walked out of the inventory room.

"What?" He asked, a little defensively.

Jules looked at him, and he bore his eyes into hers just to drive home a point. "It's been a long week."

That would be the understatement of the year, Sam thought. Still, Ed was in between them, and understandably the leader of their team was as perceptive as they came. It would definitely be a bad idea to hash out their issues in front of him, so he settled for a grimace while shooting her a pointed look, and walked right past them; right past her. "Copy _that_."

"But it's what we do though, right?"

"Yep!" Jules' voice floated from behind him, and without warning she had caught up with him up the steps. Their fingers brushed against each other in what seemed to be an entirely accidental way.

But Jules _knew_ Sam Braddock, and when she turned her head to shoot him a quizzical look, she could pick out that almost-condescending smirk. Setting her jaw back, she shook her head, set her mouth in a thin, grim line and headed towards the briefing room, away from him.

"Uh, Jules?" Spike voiced out, tilting his head back and forth between Sam and her, even ignoring Babycakes spitting out strings of carpet fur in the process. "Why does Sam look like he wants to practice his targets on you?"

* * *

Inside the house, it was quiet.

The man observed from his position. It was the perfect opportunity to strike, and phase one was a go in terms of preparation and anticipation. He could almost feel the adrenaline and excitement at the tip of his tongue, but he would not be consumed by the greed. One step at a time. That was the plan. He would not be proud and he would not let small pleasures blind.

Getting around the security checks wasn't as hard or as elaborate as he thought it might be, which sucked some of the fun out but he would make do with it eventually. The guards were inattentive, dozing off in the bitingly warm summer heat. The garage wasn't included in the patrol routine; something he learned while observing for a good ten minutes, and that was exactly where he found himself after climbing over the brick barrier, where he immediately skulked off to a more accessible area – the back of the house.

It took one guard to walk away from the area and another thirty seconds for the man to throw the hook attached to the rope up on the roof, allowing him access to the small window that would lead to the stairwell and into the rooms on the second floor. As quietly as a mouse, he started climbing up the rope. With a swift kick, he landed inside. He had gain entry into the house, and with glee he noted that the hired help were scattered on the first floor, as well as the sole occupant of the house at the moment.

He hadn't planned on spilling blood so early on in his campaign, but if it came down to it, he thought ruefully, he would have no problem executing a Plan B. It would be a lot messier to clean up, but he'd have to do what he's gotta do. Looking at his watch, he waited for the seconds to flip into a new minute before he entered the master bedroom, and began setting up the station. Laptop, display, concealed wires all displayed on the bed. He typed on the keyboard, keeping his _clacks_ as softly as he could manage. When the display sprang into life, he took a couple of steps back and admired his handiwork. This should work nicely, he thought.

The deed done, he reached out from beyond the window and grabbed hold of the same rope he'd used to gain access into the house. Carefully kicking his feet against the concrete wall as he rappelled down, he jumped swiftly and, after checking that the guards were in another area, he disappeared into the silence of the night.

Mary Braddock dozed on the couch, blissfully unaware of everything that'd just happened.

* * *

"Sam."

He turned around, genuine surprise written on his face. Jules figured it was either that Sam was too pre-occupied to notice her sneaking up on him (again), or that it was _her_. She would put money down on some sort of hybrid between the two choices though.

"So, you talking to me now?" He asked, almost too casually, only to see her set her mouth into a thin line before nodding. "So…"

"So." At the back of her mind, she identified this as a problem and a barrier between them. The hesitation, the feeling of not knowing whether she was hitting her mark… It was extremely frustrating to her, but what made it more so was that she kept coming back for more of the same. Motioning for him to walk with her, she said, quietly. "We need to stop doing this."

"Doing what? Doing nothing?" was the reply.

"Yeah, pretty much." They strode in silence for a little while, towards the quiet passageway as she strung her thoughts together. "Okay, I get it. I'm at fault here, and how I've been behaving for the past week is less than exemplary."

"No, it's okay. The answer was loud and clear. You think sleeping together again was a mistake. I get it, Jules." He was taking it surprisingly well, considering all the off-handed snide remarks and throwaway looks he had been giving her.

They stopped at their hideout, a flight of stairs that wasn't too far away from the briefing room, but secluded and dark enough not to attract too much attention. The conversation stalled as they sat themselves down.

"That's just it," Jules said, looking down at her hands that were clasped in front of her before lifting her head to meet his eyes. "I still stand by what I said the other day."

Incredulous look aside, Sam could feel the anchor at his heart slowly floating away. The only reason he'd reacted the way he did was to overcompensate the fact that he was being ditched for a second time. "We've both worked hard to get to where we are, career-wise, and these guys are our family here. You know I love you, Jules. I always will –" A faint look of fear crossed her face, but it wasn't something he caught. "But it'll be unfair to whoever leaves the team just for the sake of us working things out."

"Where does that leave us, then?"

"I don't kn –" The dispatcher's voice sounded across the facility and the alarms started blaring, and the both of them knew that their personal dilemmas would have to pushed to the backburner, again, for now.

"_Team One, hot call. Shots fired, St. Patrick's Hospital, staff member down, critical condition, active shooter at large._"

Jules pushed herself up, already on the move. Always with the bad timing, she thought, and then connected her eyes for a brief moment with him. "We'll talk later," she said and he nodded in response, and together they jogged into the inventory room to pick up their weapons and gear up; the rest of the team already in motion.

"Let's go keep the peace," Sarge dutifully reminded them, and despite the weariness, Team One filed out of the building and into their cars. Duty and honor always came first.


	3. Friday, Part II

**A/N:** Hello, dear readers/reviewers! As I've rewritten the story, I'm strongly encouraging you to read the first and second chapters again, please! The elements are kept the same but the story is now mapped out a lot darker, broad-based and hopefully it'll still be something you want to read for enjoyment. Chapters will come faster now that I have a little more time, and once again, I apologize for the long wait!

* * *

**May 15, 2009**

As it were, Jules Callaghan was more of a woman of action than she was with words. Sometimes words don't get you where you want them to, but action almost always does. But there was a downside to that when it came to opening up to others, and especially people she cared deeply about.

Coming back to the hospital was a big case of déjà vu, and it wasn't just the smell that hit the most either. There had been painful moments; moments she didn't really want to remember. The forty-eight days in physio had been bad, but it was those leading up that were even more horrible. Not being able to walk on her own without Sam's help, not being able to bend over to pick her comforter up or lifting up something heavier than a pillow – these things made her feel useless – made her _know_ she was useless until she could pick up where she left off, and it was something she loathed very much.

There was that fear, too. The doctor had told her that the bullet just narrowly missed her spinal cord, which was lucky because if it had, she could be looking at paraplegia – or worse. The what-ifs that invaded her mind had been terrifying, to say the least. What if she had moved a fraction of a second too early, or too late? What if she couldn't walk anymore, what would she even do?

She never told Sam any of it. She was already leaning on him, physically and emotionally, as far as she would go, and she couldn't – _wouldn't_ – cripple him with more; pride getting in the way.

"Couple hundred times around these floors, you leaning on my arm..."

Her hands gripped at the handles of her submachine gun, the images from the past filtering through her mind in an unwelcome manner.

"Yeah, you did always like me best when I needed you, huh?"

_How_ did they get like this? Was it his hopeless optimism then that things could work, or her fatalistic views when it came to relationships – any, not just with him? Or was it when their sides had switched, and now she was the one thinking that they could succeed if they tried hard enough? No, she thought, it had to be before any of these. It frustrated her so much that he was knocking the axis off her world and there was nothing she could do about it; didn't even know where to start.

"Come on." Sam's voice pulled her back to the present, and she shook her head at herself as they worked on securing the area. This was hardly professional, not being focused at work, and that wasn't even taking into account that they were chatting _over comms_ while on duty. He continued talking, nonetheless. "Everybody needs to be needed. Gives you something to shoot for."

She didn't respond; the things she wanted to say to that was in no way appropriate for the situation.

Later, after the subjects had been secured and Jules spotted Sam standing by the door as she followed Trudy out of the ward, she wondered if things would ever just be okay or even just _normal_ for them. And then, there he was, smirking like a smug idiot, and she just had to give his arm a shove, but then they were smiling and grinning at each other just like old times. If she focused, she could almost feel the tension in the air evaporate.

The lingering thought was enough to make a genuine smile stay.

* * *

When Sarge suggested taking the celebrations outside of the station and into their bar, no one had objected. It was a Friday night and unless the situation changed drastically, they had the glorious weekend off. Then came the onslaught of phone calls, but before long the team was settled at their usual booth at the bar, already on their second round of drinks.

"Clark's at my parents'. He said he wanted to catch up with them but I really think he's just going to use the laptop all night long," Sophie laughed and told Jules, who was sitting at the end of the table as she arrived, offering that as way of explanation for her appearance. "And now I feel terribly out of place! Am I the only spouse out here tonight or what?"

"Shel just couldn't leave the girls alone," Wordy smiled, raising his glass to greet Sophie.

"I'll tell you who's my date," Spike announced, and clearly already a little tipsy. "Lou. In the completely macho, 'we're not gay' way."

Lou sniggered. "Yeah, you wish I was your date."

"And you? No hot dates lined up all night long?" Sophie aimed the question at Jules, and Jules took the worst moment to glance at Sam. Trying to keep it as casual and light, she took a swig of her beer and quickly swallowed, making a conscious effort to blink her sight away from the blonde man, who was suddenly very interested in examining the coaster in front of him.

"Nah. Someone's gotta keep these little boys in line, you know how it goes," she joked. Jokes were good. Jokes kept the important issues that she didn't want to discuss buried. Besides, ragging on the team was her way of showing her affection. Most of the time anyway.

The rest of the night went by, jokes cracked and jibs managed, conversation interspersed with them slamming each other's hockey teams and bets placed on the play-offs this season, the ever-long rivalry between the Leafs and Canadiens becoming a key debate at one point of the long night, along with Spike's proclamation that he could take five straight paintballs to the chest in a go and the other officers swearing they would do just that the next time they went to the paintball range.

One by one, however, as the night stretched on, they filed out of the bar. It was almost closing time, and after waving both Ed and Sophie off, Jules could almost feel that piercing stare and that knowing smile at the end of the table.

"Okay, seriously, Sam," she started, shifting in her seat so that she was facing him. "Not going to happen tonight."

"Really, because if coffee was foreplay the other time, I can't imagine what alcohol isn't," he said, in a teasing lilt, and she had to laugh.

"Really. Besides, I have to take a cab home, since we left the cars at HQ, remember," she said, and then giggled; the beers taking an effect. "Right. I forgot about your almighty bike. How's that working for you, again?"

"Really great legwork practice," he said dryly, and stood up, holding his arm towards her. "Let's get you home, then."

She was about to reply when his phone rang, shrilly and making him almost jump. Fishing it out of his pocket, he frowned at the caller id but answered the call promptly.

"Dad. No, didn't wake me up. No, I haven't heard anything – are you sure? Is she okay?" His voice was getting louder and more agitated by the moment and Jules just looked on, in parts curious and worried. "Okay. Wait – a what? Pictures of what? No, I don't have access – okay. I'll call you when I do. Yes, sir. Alright. Goodbye."

The worry seemed to almost increase tenfold as he put down the phone.

"What was that about?"

"I'm not sure. Something about an intruder and threatening messages and pictures on a laptop at my Mom's house. I'm supposed to go somewhere with WiFi and see it for myself."

"My place is closer," she said immediately, and without any preamble, they exited the bar and headed over to her house.

* * *

**In the early hours of May 16, 2009**

"This is crazy."

'This' was the screen that both Sam and Jules had their stares fixated at. It wasn't so much the actual pictures than the more sinister meaning behind them. There were surveillance pictures of not just Sam, but also the rest of the team, and each photograph was enclosed in a crosshair target.

What was more disturbing was that Jules could recognize when the photographs of her were taken: one of them was taken shortly after her discharge from the hospital. She was completely oblivious to the fact that someone was following her, tracking her every move, but what really made the bile rise in her throat were the photos of Wordy and his family, Spike and Lou on several occasions, Greg and his tentative girlfriend, and even Ed, unassuming and laughing in one of them with Clark and Sophie.

The subject of the majority of the photographs was still Sam, however, whose face was expressionless but Jules knew better than anyone.

"We need to report this to someone. The police or – or something else," she told him, her tone gentle, not encapsulating the urgency of the situation. "We have to assume you're the primary target. Your mom is okay, isn't she?" He nodded, still silent. "I'm willing to bet that Spike can trace the laptop to the owner and then we can capture this sick son of a bitch."

But Sam wasn't listening anymore, not when his eyes were widened at what was happening with the laptop. The remote desktop was being controlled by the source, and a word document had opened.

_Hello, Sam._

The cursor blinked, like it was mocking him. Jules' sight fell on the screen, wondering what he was staring at like it was a ghost. She was about to speak again when she saw the active typing too, her words getting caught in her throat as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

_Let the games begin, shall we?_

A new application appeared on top of the word document. It immediately registered in her mind that it was a countdown timer, the seconds column decreasing.

_03: 06: 59: 59.  
03: 06: 59: 58.  
03: 06: 59: 57._


	4. Saturday, Part I

**A/N:** And we're up! The hits for the last chapter is a little disheartening, but I'm committed to telling this story from start to finish; I'll still love to hear from you guys though! A little disclaimer on this chapter: I'm not Canadian, and what I know of the different law enforcement agencies and organizations, it comes from Wikipedia and the respective official sites. If you spot any technical mistakes, you can private message me, but please know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fan fiction for casual enjoyment, and while accuracy is strived for, I apologize if I can't get every detail correct. That all said, please enjoy this installment!

* * *

**Saturday, May 16, 2009**_  
6:49 AM_

Jules was surprised that she was able to sleep as soundly as she did. It wasn't such a good thing, she thought unhappily, when a constant pressure resonated at the side of her head. It was barely seven in the morning now, which meant that she'd gotten about three hours of sleep, if that.

"Sam?" she called out, getting out of her bed and rubbing her hand against her bleary eyes, as she searched for him. Idly, she assumed that he would be asleep, if not on her bed like she offered him yesterday, then on the pullout chair by the side, but he was clearly not at either locations.

When she did find him, he was perched on her sofa, typing furiously on her laptop.

"Hey," she said, as she walked closer to him. He nodded as way of acknowledging her greeting, his eyes squinted and his finger straying on the trackpad.

"Did you, uh, did you get any sleep?" she tried again, taking a deep breath as she forced herself to be a little more awake. When he shook his head – silently as well – she pursed her lips into a thin line. Now that the blur of the early morning had ceased, she could see Sam's face clearly, and she didn't like what she saw. The fatigue spelled out on his face, the dark eye bags a rightful punctuation of that very loud statement. "Sam, you gotta get some rest. It's going to be okay."

"No, it's not," he told her, and for the first time tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to look at her. He attempted to keep his voice level, but somehow he couldn't control the outburst and how loud he was getting to be. "It's _so_ far from okay it's fucking crazy!"

Jules flinched a little. Inhaled deeply and eyes downcast for the briefest of moments before meeting his again. Quietly, she voiced out. "I'm just trying to help."

He buried his face in his open palms and then lifted his right hand, cupping it over his chin, as if forcing himself to soften the blows of his hostility.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't –"

And how could she fault him? She could only imagine what he was going through at this moment, and it wasn't pretty. She rested her hand on his shoulder, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay. Have you found anything useful?"

He blew out a breath of exasperated air; shook his head while leaning back a little. "Not really."

"Okay," she nodded. "Then here's what I'm suggesting. Go sleep for a while; you can barely keep your eyes open."

"But –"

"But _nothing_. You're exhausted, Sam," she told him, matter-of-factly; something he couldn't very well deny as a yawn threatened to ripple through his body. After a moment of silence, she gripped his shoulder, and then released her hold on him; ducking her head down to meet his eyes directly. "You're _not_ alone in this, okay? I'm going to be here. So are the other guys. Now go," she motioned towards her bedroom, "I'll wake you up in three hours?"

"Two," he said, grudgingly shutting the lid of the laptop down as he stood up, but hesitated stepping forward. She gave him a look, and despite the severity of the situation, he breathed a little easier and with the slightest hint of a smile, asked. "Can I ask for a favor?"

Without missing a beat, she replied. "Sure, anything you need."

"Do you think I can get a protein mango breakfast smoothie when I wake up?"

* * *

"You're not going to like this."

Without preamble, Spike spoke the moment Jules and Sam stepped into the general area. It was just before noon and already the rest of the team were present in the station, surprising Winnie, who was the dispatcher on duty, since they were supposed to have the weekend off duty.

"Not going to like what?" Jules asked.

"The RCMP collected the laptop from Sam's family house, ran a trace, can't find the owner," Spike confirmed. "I've requested for it to be sent here so that I can do my own checks, but I don't know if I'll be able to get anything from it either."

Sam frowned. "Wait, can't find the owner how?"

"The IP address from where the remote desktop was operating from is so masked and all over the planet, it's not even funny, and I think the laptop itself is made up of stolen parts, which will make it even harder to track."

"We're dealing with a pro here, then," Greg gave his input, as he leaned against the table and crossed his arms. This was classic payback – it did seem that the past twelve months was horrible for the members of this team, grudges aside, they were being targeted and it worried him. They were the good guys, doing everything by the book, and it didn't seem fair that such things were happening to them. First Ed, now Sam… "Sam, I know it's a rough time, but can you think of anybody who would want to do this to you?"

The younger man shook his head. "No, not really. I spent the whole night trying to figure out if I've somehow managed to offend someone. I came up blank."

"Maybe from your old team? People you knew in the army?"

Sam shook his head again. "I really can't think of anybody. Sorry, Sarge."

"We're going to help you with this, so don't worry too much, alright?" Greg told him, echoing Jules' sentiments from earlier in the morning. And even though Sam knew that the situation wouldn't necessarily turn out 'okay' in the end, the reassurance of the team having his back was almost comforting enough to fall back on.

It was nothing short of amazing how team bonds were formed. Months ago, when he was the rookie (and how he hated that word) of the team, it took time to settle in the team; maybe even too long for him to be proud of. He had always been a little too hot-tempered, and a little too blunt, but the team's centre was solid, and slowly he adapted. When Donna replaced Jules on the team, he got a little jealous seeing how quickly she'd ingratiated herself with the guys, when compared to him, but it also served to ground him tremendously. The team wasn't just a sum of all its parts, but rather it worked like a well-oiled machine.

The little trip down memory lane knocked his attention span over, and he almost missed someone walking through the doors.

"Callaghan. This is a nice surprise." The new addition in the room said, and Jules just gave him a wry smile and a light punch to the shoulder. Along with Sam, the other officers looked on curiously. "I'm Inspector Michael Hansen," he addressed the rest of the team and flipped his card up in front of him. "From the 'O' Division." Then, reaching behind for his bag, he took the laptop out; it was wrapped in plastic to what Jules assumed was for the preservation of evidence. "I'm told an Officer Scarletti requested this?"

Spike almost lunged forward for it. "That'll be me, thanks!" Then, glancing at Ed, he nodded at the holding room where he stored all his tech gadgets. "Do you mind…?"

"Go ahead," the taller man confirmed, as he stepped up in front of Inspector Hansen, holding his hand out for him to shake, which he did with a firm grip. "Officer Ed Lane, team leader. That's Greg Parker, he's team sergeant," he gestured to each person as he introduced them. "Officer Wordsworth; Young; Braddock; and I see you already know Officer Callaghan."

"Yeah, Jules and I go way back," he grinned, and Jules let out a little laugh.

"And by that, he meant that I kicked his ass during the cadet training program at the RCMP and kicked his ass _again_ within our unit at the 'O' division," she clarified, a small smile evident but the look on her face turned serious quickly as she addressed the situation at hand. "Are there no leads on the case, then?"

He shook his head apologetically. "Our guys couldn't find anything. In the meantime, while we don't wish to raise cause for alarm, the provincial police are acting as security filters for your families, at the behest of General Braddock."

"Normally I'd say it's overkill how over the top my father gets, but if anything happened to your families, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself," Sam said quietly, looking at the others before letting his gaze settle on Inspector Hansen. "Thanks."

"No sweat, man, just doing my job," he told him, and then back to Ed. "I've got some paperwork for you and Sergeant – Parker, was it?" he queried, and Greg just nodded in confirmation. "Great. It's just procedure, but it'd be best for all of us if we get it all out of the way at the beginning so that it doesn't come back to bother us later."

"Briefing room's this way," Greg said, pointing to the table, and took a few strides before turning back to Jules and Sam, and pointed. "By the way – the commander put Team One on sanctioned leave while we figure this thing out."

Looking about as surprised as he felt, Sam nodded; the only thing he was capable of doing without showing that he was too stunned to react. With nothing on their agenda, the remaining officers – Lou, Wordy, Jules and Sam – looked at each other, all of them wondering what the next step of action should be.

* * *

The man grinned widely to himself. This was going to be a challenge, given that the only organization left to rope into Operation Braddock was the CSIS – everyone else had gotten involved. That upped the ante, and the thrill played on. This interjection wasn't part of his plans, but the trick to being a master in the webs of deceit that people weave was being able to adapt to changes. The endgame was still in sight, now that the countdown was in place and ticking like a live bomb.

But he wasn't going to wait that long to get into action. First, he had some supplies to gather. Phase Two would be coming online soon, and he would be nothing less than prepared for it.


	5. Saturday, Part II

**Saturday, May 16, 2009**_  
9:57 PM_

Sam stared at the photographs again. There was nothing that could be more unnerving than the evidence of you being followed. Or maybe there was, he thought, and that was the fact that they had no idea at all that something like that transpired. It was shaking the core of violating privacy. Most of all, it bothered him that it wasn't just him that was surveilled, or that there were only his pictures with the gun sight drawn over them. It wouldn't be so bad if whoever was out to get him was only targeting him, and solely him. Not the people he considered family.

He let out a slight, bitter laugh. Of course. He was getting so affected by it, and he didn't even have any idea what any of that all meant. Clearly the threat in the early morning wasn't coming to fruition. It had been more than fourteen hours, and there was no impending disaster for the team to conquer. Maybe he should allow himself the liberty of breathing easy until something struck. Was there a use for him, all with bloodshot eyes and a worried gait, during this trying period?

No, he decided, and convicted himself to this thought. If whoever was doing this thought that Sam was going to succumb to the pressure of losing it, he wasn't going to provide him with this pleasure. Sam Braddock was nothing if a fighter, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

* * *

Before the team was even aware of it, a whole day had passed and they were nowhere closer to finding out the truth. Spike, in particular, was the most irritated with the lack of progress. The perpetrator was _good_, he had to admit. Still, if there was one thing Spike was most proud of, it was his ability to yield some results from his gadgets. Typing a command line into the console, he growled silently at the offensive failure and stood up, intending on leaving his computer station switched on while he called it a day.

* * *

"So, you and Sam Braddock. What's up with that?"

Jules stopped abruptly, like Michael's statement was a rude shock. She was just showing the RCMP officer the way out, as a courtesy; she did know him better than the other guys and it felt only right, since he was providing his expertise for this dilemma. Still, his question seemed to come entirely out of nowhere at all.

She decided to laugh it off, as she continued walking, without missing a beat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Jules. We were together, what, a year and a half? I think I can read you like a book."

"Sam's a good friend."

"There's gotta be more than that," he shook his head at her and a smile hung on his face. "You care a lot about him."

She stared right ahead, her steps falling in place with a rhythm as she ignored him steadfastly. She tightened her grip on her cellphone in her hand, just for the sake of having something to hold on to.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with a little fraternization."

"There are rules, Michael," she finally conceded. "You know that."

They reached his car, but he showed no signs of getting into it and driving off, and inwardly Jules cursed at his insistence on trying to uncover something that she didn't wish to even think about now. Not that she didn't want to, but it would be an extra weight on the anchor and that wasn't a good plan no matter when. Still, as he leaned his tall form against the side of his car and folded his arms in front of him, he looked amused at her concession.

"That didn't stop you before, did it?"

She pursed her lips, and sighed. "What are you trying to drive at here, Michael?"

"Just giving you something to think about."

"Yeah, okay, maybe you can choose a more appropriate time to do this then," she snapped at him, and then immediately felt bad. "I didn't mean to do that. It's just – everyone's stressed about this."

"I know." He paused for a little while. "I've never seen anything like this. If we catch this guy, he's going to go down with a _lot_ of charges that will hopefully put him behind for years."

"_When_ we catch this guy," she corrected him.

He nodded, his foot kicking aimlessly at the tarmac on the ground. "It's just so unusual that there isn't a clear suspect though. Maybe we could work on getting Sam to list down everyone that is even remotely possibly a suspect again."

A nod. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I was serious though, what I said about fraternization."

She scoffed. "Yeah, so was I. The rules –"

"We made it work, didn't we? For a little while?" he cut into her midway, sincerity seeping through his words.

"Yeah. For a little while," she echoed, fond memories filtering through her mind. A comfortable moment of silence enveloped. It was one of the things she liked about Michael, both before and now; the fact that she didn't have to fill the gaps with meaningless words. "It's a little different though."

"Everything always is. You just need to know if something's worth everything."

She nodded, contemplated his words for a while, but then gave a little laugh anyway. "Look at you going all philosophical on my ass."

"I just want what's best for my friends, Jules." He smiled fondly at her, and then fished his key out of his pocket. "I should go. I'm probably going to swing by in the afternoon here, tomorrow. But you've got my number still, right?"

"No, I threw away and deleted every single thing that reminded me of you when we broke up and I left the 'O' Division," she deadpanned, and he chuckled, and so did she as she cracked a smile, lifting her hand that was holding on to her cellphone. "Of course I do. Goodnight, Hansen."

"Night, Callaghan. See you tomorrow."

She watched as he got into the car as she stepped on the curb; even giving a slightly awkward wave as he zoomed away and the sounds of the engines purring faded.

_Well, I'd better get back in_, she thought, but as she turned on her heel to do exactly that, someone grabbed her and pressed a slightly damp cloth against her mouth.

How he sneaked up on her, she had no idea but that wasn't the least of her worries as she struggled vehemently against the attacker dragging her. She tried to scream, tried to get her elbow to connect to the attacker's stomach so that she could gain an upper hand, but the chemicals in the mixture was making her too drowsy too fast. Despite her training, despite her know-how's, she knew she was rendered powerless and she thrashed against the bigger person, who was now hauling her into the trunk of a car.

Her muffled screams reached no ears, and as her world went black, the only thought in her mind was Sam.


	6. Sunday, Part I

**Sunday, May 17, 2009**_  
8:32 AM_

Surprisingly, Sam had a pretty good night's rest, since he convicted himself to not get affected by everything that was going on. He could handle the threats, or his father's insistence on butting in on the investigations even though he was more of a hindrance than a help. He could even handle Jules pulling away from him – again – even though she had all but poured her heart out to him about how she felt, interruptions notwithstanding. Last night, he had offered to send her home, but she had wanted to send her friend off first. Sam didn't see her after, so he simply assumed that she had rejected his offer.

It wasn't like she had an obligation to him anyway. Not before, not now.

Sam didn't do relationships well. When he was younger, girls threw themselves at him and he treated them… well, he'd rather not say those things now, but it was a case of an eye for an eye, the different names for the same things.

Then he left the army, and he joined the SRU, and then he met Jules.

Every rule in the game book got tossed aside when it came to her. On the purely superficial end, when he'd first met her, he wasn't lying when he said that female snipers were sexy. There was something intriguing about the lady, even though she was refreshingly candid and open. It started out like the rest of his conquests, too. He thought it would only be a matter of time before the girl would crack under pressure, and he would get what he wanted, just like every girl before her.

But Jules… she made him play for his keeps, kept him on his toes. It was something new that he'd never experienced before. The blatant refusal to give in to that charge between them, or the way Sam would chase after her, just like Charlie Brown and his football, only to be taken away each and every time he got near. By the time they shared that first kiss, it was painfully obvious to him who was in charge.

The short answer in it was that it wasn't him.

And the worst thing in this was, he had actually _fallen in love_. If past Sam could see him now, he would have laughed his head off at him. Shaking his head at himself, Sam set out of his house. The warm, friendly sun could very well be an indication of how great the day should go.

It wasn't.

* * *

Jules was made aware of two things when she slowly came to her senses. First, her body ached and there was a dull throbbing at the side of her head. Second, there was someone sitting right in front of her, his arms crossed in front and his left leg perched on his right knee.

She tugged at her hands tied behind her to no avail, an uneasy feeling spreading from her stomach to the rest of her body.

"Who are you?"

Even with her bleary eyes and the bad lighting in this place – _where is this?_ – she could make out some distinct profile traits. Her abductor was about 6'3 tall, with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes that was staring at her now. No, those didn't make her skin crawl. That would be the smirk on his face; the calculated gaze he settled upon her as she forced herself to focus.

"Wouldn't be the wisest thing if I told you my name, would it?"

If Jules concentrated hard enough, she could even hear the sneer in his voice.

"You're making a huge mistake."

He shook his head.

"No. No, I'm not making a mistake. This is exactly what's in my plans."

Standing up, he circled around Jules. She stiffened her jaw and gave him no pleasure in knowing that she was, in fact, terrified. Her heart pounded against her ribs but her face showed no indication of that. That aside, she wanted to know the truth – _needed_ to know who was behind this, who it was exactly that was doing this to Sam. It took everything in her to take a deep breath and tilt her head up to look at the handsome stranger.

"Why are you doing this?"

"He gave me no choice."

"Who?" Her voice took an incredulous lilt. "_Sam_?"

And then she felt the stinging pain of a slap on her left cheek.

"You don't get to say his name like that."

"What did he do?" she tried, again, though her eyes were slowly filling up with tears on instinct, the sharp pain spreading through her skin as she bit on her inner cheek, hoping to numb pain with pain itself.

"Killed my sister." He said simply, and Jules had to narrow her eyes as she wondered what he was talking about.

* * *

A sheen of sweat was on Sam's face as he entered the main entrance of the SRU headquarters, due partly to the weather. He'd never liked the heat much; having to be stationary in one position, willing that drip of sweat not to drop into your eye and mess up your sight while you tried to stay as inconspicuous while looking through a sniper's scope, and wielding a rifle did that to you.

The first thing he did, as always, was to cast his glace at Jules' changing room. By habit, she was usually the first one there, but today Sam couldn't help but frown at her absence. He fished his phone out to check for messages, and found none. Still, maybe she got held up with personal stuff, so he filed this irregularity at the back of his mind.

Knocking on the door of Spike's workroom where he was trying to trace the primary IP location of the remote computer, Sam made himself useful by reading through logs, as Spike worked on technicalities that Sam didn't even recognize. By ten o'clock, the rest of the team had streamed in, even though they were off duty, chipping in whatever little they could with the investigation. The rest of the team, sans Jules, that was.

"Sammy. Jules coming in today?" Ed asked, noticing Sam's frequent glances at the front door, as if he were willing the petite brunette to skip right through it. Sam looked up in mild surprise, and then picking himself right up, as he shrugged nonchalantly.

"No idea."

Ed kept his gaze on him, but before Sam could turn his attention away, the phone in his pocket buzzed and he took it out; Jules' name in large typeface on his screen.

"Hey, Jules."

"_Sam. Are you at work?"_

He nodded, even though obviously she wouldn't be able to see him. "Been here for a couple of hours now. Are you coming in today?"

There was a pregnant pause at the end of the line, weird enough to make him feel uneasy. Or maybe it was the way that Jules was speaking; calculated and wary, that was making all the alarms blare in his head.

"_I'm – Can you get Spike and, uh, whoever you can get, really, and put your phone on speaker mode?"_

It was a weird enough request, but Sam abided by it, beckoning at Ed who had overheard that it was Jules. By the time Sam pulled his arm away from his ear and hit the speaker phone button, the rest of the guys were cramped in that little space.

"You're on, Jules."

"_Hey, boys."_ A beat of silence. _"Okay. The bad news is, I don't think I'm coming in for work today. The worse news is… I've been captured and trapped."_

A split second of stunned silence ensued, before they looked at each other with similar quizzical expressions on their faces. Greg was the first one to seize control of the situation.

"Where are you, Jules?"

"_I'm not sure. In a cargo lift somewhere. I was restrained but I managed to get the ropes off my hands, but the doors are sealed and I think he meant for me to call you because he placed my phone on a table blatantly. He left -"_

Greg didn't wait for her to finish up her sentence when he interrupted with pertinent questions; questions everybody in the room wanted answered. "Wait, hold on a sec. Are you okay? Who is he? Do you know why you were abducted? When did that happen?"

"_I'm okay. For now, anyway. He's whoever's targeting Sam. And he grabbed me last night near work, after I sent Michael – Inspector Hansen – off. Maybe you can get some kind of ID from the traffic cameras. He's tall, brunette, green eyes. I can only imagine this is some sort of a ploy to get to Sam._" And then, just when Sam thought the news couldn't get worse, she continued. _"He said you killed his sister, Sam."_

In the seconds she'd been talking, Spike had already spurned into motion, turning his attention very swiftly to another computer terminal.

"Triangulating position right now," he announced, loud enough for the room, and more importantly, Jules to hear. But when it beeped to signal that there were no results from the search, he frowned.

"Where is she, Spike?"

"No no no, this can't be right." Punching in the keys on the keyboard, Spike ignored the direct query while going through the search process again.

"_And I only have about three hours' supply of oxygen in this lift, apparently. That's what he said."_ Jules chimed in on the phone again, and it took most of Sam's grit to not feel faint and fall back into a chair. _"I can't find a way out and I can't pry the top cover or the doors open."_

"Spike, what's your status?" Ed cast a glance at the technical expert of the team, trying to conceal his worry, but failing. But Spike wouldn't be delivering any good news, from that look on his face; knitted brows and a pair of worried eyes.

"Signals are blocked, I can't lock in to her phone's GPS."

"Okay. Okay," Ed nodded and looked at each of the other members in their eyes. "Wordy, Lou, hike down to the RCMP to get the surveillance photos and anything else you can get, and see if we can figure out who and work from there. Spike, continue working on getting to her position. Greg, let's work out an action plan to get her out of there."

Each of them nodded, and then quickly filed out as per their instructions.

"What about me?" Sam asked, quickly, definitely not wanting to be left out of the operation.

"Sit down, and go through all your previous cases. Think of anybody who could fit the bill of what Jules had described. Do it quickly."

Sam nodded uncertainly. The worrying thing was that he couldn't think of any possible suspects; he was absolutely certain that he hadn't killed a girl, whether as a sniper in the army or here at the SRU, but knew he had to work out the link somehow. Glancing at the phone, he took a deep breath, and said what was on everybody's minds.

"We're going to get you out of there, Jules. Don't worry."

"_Yeah,_" her voice floated through the airwaves, wavering a little, as if uncertainly. _"Be quick, though. I'm not sure how long –"_

"We know." He said before she could finish that sentence. He didn't need her to finish to know what she was going to say. "You're going to be alright."

_I promise._

_

* * *

_**A/N: **Yikes, this took longer than I'd expected! I just finished up a big design project, so I'm slowly writing this story. It's nearing the middle, too. I know, I know, "Just the middle?!" It's the first part of Sunday, and this story will span the entire week in the time frame the bad guy has stated, but some days will only have one part, so that should move things along. Anyway, reviews will be awesome. :)


	7. Sunday, Part II

**Sunday, May 17, 2009  
10:46 AM**

Jules must have drifted into unconsciousness without meaning to.

When she nodded herself awake, the tight band around her chest constricted her breathing.

It was all quiet. There was no hum from the cargo lift, no presence of anything else but her own thin breaths. As she tried to regulate her breathing, something clutched at her heart, refusing to let go.

There was nothing quite like feeling your own life slipping away. No blood this time, just the increasing pressure on her lungs as the minutes went by. A few tears dropped involuntarily from her eyes, and she stopped her shaking hand long enough to wipe the tears away furiously.

Nothing had worked. She had tried to yell for help, but it was apparent that she was alone in - wherever she was. Tried to climb to the top of the lift to find a way out that way, but she didn't have the right tools. The doors are clamped shut, rigged to small explosives around the small, confined space that she could see, clear as day. The red LEDs blinked at her, almost mockingly.

It had been more than two hours since she had informed the boys of her situation... It would mean she had less than an hour left, before her oxygen ran out completely.

Her world was already beginning to swirl around her, proving harder and harder for her eyes to stop closing. Harder and harder to stop herself from dropping into a deep slumber. She felt almost weightless, almost like if she held her arms out, she could float away.

It took all of her willpower to force her eyes open. She had discovered in despair that her phone was running out of battery, and even though she knew, deep down, that Spike's GPS location search was futile, she still needed to know that the option open. To know that string of hope that out there, her boys were looking frantically for her.

She let out a bitter laugh, even though that took more effort than she was prepared for. Her head lolled to the side, and she made no effort in sitting up straight now.

When her eyes strayed to a rundown monitor hidden behind boxes, it took more than a few seconds for her sluggish mind to catch up.

But it eventually did, as her eyes trailed the thick wires around the lift, and she stood up carefully, her hands using them as a guide. The wire ended at a top corner --

Oh, _god_. Thank god. It was a small security camera. If she could just yank it off its mount, she might be able to expose a small hole in the metal wall. A small hole in the metal wall meant a small stream of oxygen. Her mind leapt at that, and she let out little huffs, trying to tug it down.

She estimated she had maybe half, or an hour more of bided time left. Maybe time enough for a miracle to happen.

She nearly collapsed in joy when a click sounded, and the camera came tumbling down. With a renewed vigor, Jules forced herself to think. There must be something she could do, something she could access to help identify the man who was on this quest to destroy Sam.

_Please work, please work_, she chanted as she stumbled over to the old, dusty monitor. It flickered to life.

Lumbering back to the metal table, she picked up her phone with a shaky hand, and hoped her phone wouldn't die on her before she could get her message across.

Sam answered before the second ring.

She put the phone to her ear.

"Jules?"

"Sam. I have security footage, I can take a photo of my captor and send it to you, and you can figure out who he is."

Her voice was slow and low.

"Stay with me, Jules," she heard him say, and it was only a moment later that she realized she had drifted off again.

It hurt her chest to speak.

"How is everyone?"

"We're doing all we can to get to you, Jules."

"Okay. But hurry, or you'll hit rush traffic and be late for work."

"Jules?"

"Sam? Is that you? Hey, listen." She squinted her eyes at the monitor and rewound the footage to a frame where she could see the man clearly. "Sam. I love you, okay, the job is important but I do."

In the background she could hear him whisper. _She's getting delusional, Ed. She's not making much sense anymore. There's - not much time left._

"Noooo," she whined, but forgot what about as she finally got to a frame when the man was almost looking straight at the camera. She positioned her phone; her shaking hands supported by the wall, and took a picture, sending it as an email to the team.

She held the phone to her ear.

"Sam. I have security footage."

"I know. We're downloading the picture, Jules."

"I can take a photo of my captor and send it to you."

Sam's voice crackled, like interference in the airwaves. She could barely hear what he was saying now, just that it sounded mildly urgent. She pulled the phone away from her face, only to see it going through the shut down process.

The screen turned black.

She choked back a sob.

* * *

**A/N: **...Hi. Remember me? And you know what I said about the story spanning a week? Forget that. I managed to condense the plot so that the pacing wasn't so awkward, so now we _are_ in the climax! That, and I'm experimenting with writing smaller chunks, so I really should be finishing this story really soon. Thank you so much for hanging in there, and I promise updates will be more frequent and less frustrating in the near future. I appreciate all your reviews and comments! More reviews means a faster turn-about time, too, as a form of motivation. ;)


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